


Alone in the Woods

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bottom John, Camping, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Sherlock, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 18:23:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On orders to take some time away from London, Sherlock finds out the best part of camping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone in the Woods

There were many times Sherlock Holmes observed John Watson. Oftentimes John was unaware. This was one of those times as Sherlock lounged against a tree with a book in his hands, secretly watching as the smaller man swung an axe over and over again, splitting firewood. This was all John’s fault, after all. There had been yet another close brush with death and danger and Mycroft demanding they take a break and get out of London for a bit and John had suggested they go caravanning. So now Sherlock was pretending to read while a shirtless John Watson grunted with each fall of the axe.

The sun shone through his blond hair. His compact muscles rippled under his skin.  Sherlock was well aware of the effect watching John was having on him, but fortunately the man was completely focused on his task. He set a final log on the stump and brought the axe down with a satisfying sense of finality. “There, that should be enough wood for the weekend.”

“What was that?” Sherlock put the book down as if he hadn’t been paying any attention.  John wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm, giving Sherlock a marvelous view of his chest. “I said, I think that’s enough wood for the weekend.”

“You would know,” Sherlock set the book down, watching him.

John chuckled. “Yes, I can’t imagine the Holmes family did much caravanning.” He picked up a bottle of water and Sherlock watched him swallow, a trickle of water running loose down his chin. Sherlock swallowed as John brought it down again and wiped the water away. “Want some?”

Sherlock found his throat suddenly dry. “Yes, please,” he said, staring up at him.

John moved towards him, all easy confidence in his tight dark jeans and sturdy boots. Sherlock stared up at him, seeing the smile curling his lips. Carrying the bottle easily in his left hand he knelt over Sherlock’s lap. “Open up.”

Finding his breath short, Sherlock obediently opened his mouth, staring into John’s blue eyes, noticing the dilatation. John slowly tilted the bottle against his lips, watching as he dribbled the cool liquid into his mouth. “Wouldn’t want you to get dehydrated, after all.”

“That is hardly a concern,” said Sherlock as John pulled the bottle away. He licked his lips, seeing his action mirrored by John. Abandoning the pretense, Sherlock hooked his fingers in the loops of his jeans and tugged him close, leaning in to lick the sweat from under his chin, tongue dragging on stubble.

“Mm, Sherlock,” hummed John happily, resting his hands on Sherlock’s chest.

Letting go of the jeans, Sherlock ran his hands up his lover’s arms, feeling the tightness of used muscles and admiring the strength under his hands. Reaching his shoulders he pulled John down for a kiss, tongues battling for a moment before John allowed him to press inside. He loved the taste of him, something earthy and strong and always with a hint of tea.

John ground slowly against his lap. Sherlock rocked up against him, hand sliding down his back. John, so warm and strong in his arms. Long fingers slipped into John’s pocket and retrieved the bottle of lube. Pulling away, John started on Sherlock’s buttons. “Only you would wear a button up shirt caravanning.”

“You hardly gave me a packing list.” Sherlock leaned in to kiss his neck, his own hands dropping to the fly of John’s jeans.

“Wouldn’t have listened if I had.” John tugged the shirt open and ran his hands up Sherlock’s chest, making him moan softly as he raised goosebumps.

Getting John’s jeans loose, Sherlock reached around and cupped his wonderful arse. John moaned softly, then leaned forward to give him both more room to work and to capture Sherlock’s bottom lip, worrying it in his teeth but not breaking skin.

Sherlock closed his eyes a moment, just feeling John’s body, the way he tensed as he moved against Sherlock’s lap, hips flexing. Hands warm and thumbs gently stroking his nipples. Opening his eyes again he pushed John onto his back, kissing him deeply as he tugged his jeans down, feeling John trying to get his boots off.

Once he was divested of jeans, pants and boots, Sherlock sat back against the tree again and tugged John into his lap. John got his trousers open and wrapped a hand around his cock as Sherlock’s slicked fingers probed his entrance.

“God, Sherlock,” groaned John, pushing back against his fingers, eyes screwed tightly shut.

Sherlock leaned forward and kissed the middle of his chest. He loved seeing John like this, needing, desperate, fucking himself slowly on his fingers, taking whatever Sherlock gave. Sherlock’s own cock leaked pre-cum, swelling under John’s half-forgotten strokes.

Adding another finger, Sherlock soothed down his arm with free hand.  John moaned, head rocking back. Sherlock took advantage to bite lightly at his throat, dragging his teeth down to his shoulder. John groaned, panting, thighs quivering as he thrust back again and again.

“Mine,” said Sherlock softly, withdrawing his fingers.

John gave a needy whimper, opening his eyes and meeting Sherlock’s. He let go of the man’s cock to tug down his trousers a little more, shifting up to position himself. Sherlock held one thigh as he guided John onto his cock.  The heat and tightness always took him a little by surprise; his other hand went to John’s hip and he pushed him down, making John groan again, his own cock heavy and neglected, pre-cum dripping onto Sherlock’s pale stomach.

Sherlock’s long fingers wrapped around John’s cock. John’s hands rested on his shoulders as he leaned in to kiss him and this time Sherlock let his tongue slip inside. His other hand wrapped around John’s waist, feeling him sliding up and down his cock. Sherlock barely thrust up, letting John do most of the work.

Suddenly, John stilled. Sherlock opened his eyes and found John watching him, amusement in his eyes. “Just going to sit there?”

“You seemed to be doing an adequate job.”

“Adequate?”

Sherlock regarded John a moment, then wrapped both arms around him and rolled them over so John was on his back. John groaned as Sherlock started moving. “Is this better, Doctor Watson?” Sherlock pinned his wrists and drew nearly all the way out before thrusting hard.

“Better. Much,” gasped John.

Setting a brutal pace on the unforgiving ground, Sherlock drove into him. John’s head tossed, eyes screwed shut. Sherlock could feel his pulse under his hands, his body hot and needy. A few more hard thrusts and he was coming, John following just after without a touch to his cock.

Gasping, Sherlock let John’s wrists go. John smiled up at him, dirt and a few errant twigs in his hair. He looked like some golden pagan god and the sight made Sherlock’s heart clench. John pulled him down for a more tender kiss, rolling them over so John was on top again. He settled in against Sherlock’s shoulder, sighing contentedly. Sherlock though maybe this caravanning thing wasn’t so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


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